Under The Falling Skies
by Maknatuna
Summary: To avoid the destruction of his kingdom, the king offers Dean, the savage chieftain of a barbarian tribe to marry one of his daughters, but instead of choosing a pretty maiden Dean chooses Castiel, the young prince as his boy toy. If Castiel refuses, the war is inevitable and there's a big chance that they will lose, as Dean's army is numerous.
1. Chapter 1

Beta'd by Zana Zira. Thank you, darling!

Please leave reviews. I really need your support as this is gonna be a long and difficult story to write.

**Important**: To make things clear. Some of you may not understand what's happening in this chapter. Let me explain: this and upcoming 4 chapters are set in ancient Rome. Why? Because it is strongly connected to Dean's and Castiel's future storylines. Quintus Atticus is Dean and Cassius Valerius Martialis is Castiel but in their past lives.

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Prologue

_O youth or young man, who fancy that you are neglected by the gods, _

_know that if you become worse, you shall go to worse souls, or if better to the better... _

_In every succession of life and death, you will do and suffer what like may fitly suffer at the hands of like. _

_This is the justice of heaven. ~Plato_

A drunken and swaying man staggers out of an old tavern into the darkness of the night. He makes a few steps towards thick bushes, waving hands in the air to keep the balance. Too much wine and bitter food upset his stomach and the drunk man bends over the bushes, vomiting up whatever he had for supper.

The tavern is located behind the cemetery for the poor population and owned by an old, limp legionary Flavius Rufus. One can meet many and various people in the tavern while visiting it. Mostly carpenters, builders, former gladiators and whores.

A hoard of stray dogs is a usual sight here. The bones and skin of cooked animals are thrown behind the back wall of the tavern, where the hungry animals fight over them. The funny thing is that many of the dogs look fatter than those customers visiting this rat hole.

The lantern dimly lights up the entrance of the tavern. It's not hard to guess what one can expect while going inside. The first impression comes from looking at the door, which is probably hundreds of years old, cracked and half off its hinges, creaking and fraying the nerves of the visitors on windy nights.

There are small, uneven stone stairs leading down, inside the tavern so the visitors can enter a big room with wooden benches, tables and half-broken stools. The room is always filled with smoke, different scents of sweat, wine, cooking food, and sex mixed up. Drunken laughter, roaring, (though many stated they were singing) clanking of plates and cups, lewd moans and screams, half naked bodies or even worse, people fucking right on the tables is a normal thing here at this tavern, which hardly can be called a tavern.

In the wall near the kitchen where Flavius Rufus' female slaves are cooking, is a door leading to a secret room (as Flavius likes to think), where for paying additional sesterces one can engage in carnal pleasures with prostitutes of either sex. And now, the room is occupied judging by the moans and grunts coming out from behind the closed door.

A young, naked man is sitting on a poor imitation of a bed, head thrown back and thighs spread wide. One hand is gripping the wrinkled bed sheets, while the other one is resting and gently pushing against the head of a male prostitute settled between his parted legs.

"Mmm, yes, like that. Just like that. Work with your tongue….fuuuuuuck…. Take it deeper, you little dirty whore…." The man bites his lips and thrusts up into the hot mouth wrapped around his pulsing length.

Looking at the moaning man, his perfect body with chiseled muscles, strong arms, broad shoulders, and taut thighs, it's easy to guess that he is a warrior. Or was, at least.

The grip of his hand tightens in the hair of the prostitute. Green eyes filled with lust close in utter bliss and a guttural moan escapes his full, parted lips when the skillful tongue licks up the shaft, teasing the slit with the tip.  
"You like it when I fuck your pretty little mouth don't you?" The man pants and shakes his head to throw the stray strands of his long, blond hair over the shoulder. The rolls of his hips are getting faster, a clear sign of impending orgasm.

The prostitute, a beautiful young man from Greece, with brown eyes and long, dark hair just hums his agreement, sending jolts of pleasure to the receiver, making him gasp and curse aloud when a powerful and unexpected orgasm is ripped out of him.

Those strong hands grab and unceremoniously tug the prostitute's head down, impaling it on his cock, while the man shoots his release into the wet, burning heat.

"Quintus…" A muffled but desperate cry.

"My apologies, sugar. But your mouth, gods your mouth is sweet like the milk from Juno's breasts." A deep, husky voice that belongs to Quintus Atticus, rasps and a calloused hand pats the prostitute's cheek, showing what a good boy he is. He quickly stands up, gathering his clothes.

"Don't go anywhere. I am not done with you yet." He pulls the younger man to his chest, feeling the strained erection against his belly. "And, Demetrius," the man smirks, "no touching yourself. I will be back to stretch that lovely ass of yours to the limit, so you just wait for me."

Quintus kisses the man, licking into his mouth and tasting himself on the tip of his tongue. He pats Demetrius' round, delicious looking ass and grabs an amphora full of red wine. After a few gulps he leaves the room and the half naked prostitute in it.

"Oh, look who's here!" the butcher, Titus Manilius, greets him with a drunken snicker, as he tries to stay on his feet with the help of a toothless prostitute named Lutecia.

"May the gods bless you too, Titus," Quintus says amicably, raising his amphora and taking a sip. "Any new gossip you've heard lately?"

"Yes, my friend. I swear by Pluto's throne, I've heard many things." Titus nods frantically and looks around cautiously. "But there is one, which I want to share with you!"

"Enlighten me," Quintus laughs, punching the man in the shoulder playfully.

"No, not here," Titus whispers. "We should choose a dark corner. This is not for every ear. Lutecia, love of my life, you are free to go. I will call for you later." The butcher smacks the woman and the prostitute runs away cackling merrily, believing naively that she has found the man of her dreams.

They are lucky as some quarreling drunk soldiers have just vacated a table in the corner, near the front door, and Titus followed by Quintus hurry to occupy the seats. The young man puts his half-empty amphora on the table and leans on his forearms.

"So, what is it you've heard?"

"You remember the whole Jugurtha mess, don't you? Do you know why he was so favored by Romans? It appears that he bribed Lucius Calpurnius Bestia who was sent to defeat his army. Jugurtha surrendered and he was given such favorable terms that it caused a lot of doubts. Therefore he was summoned to Rome." Titus takes a greedy gulp right from the amphora, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Guess what happened later."

Quintus frowns, a slight wrinkle forming between his light brown eyebrows. "He got in some trouble?"

"Hah, no trouble my friend. He bribed two tribunes and they prevented him from testifying."

"Lucky bastard." Quintus smiles.

"And now," Titus looks around conspiratorially. "I've heard that they are sending Aulus Postimius Albinus Magnus to finally kill the man."

"Let us hope that the brother of the consul will be much luckier and succeeds." Quintus sips the drink.

"Also, there is one mor…" Titus is cut off by a loud, sharp voice.

"Quintus Atticus!"

The two men at the table flinch and stare at the newcomers: two soldiers and their commander. "I've been searching for you in the whole town and yet, here you are." The commander's smirk is predatory.

"Yes, as far as your all-seeing eyes are not deceiving you." Quintus snorts. He knows where this is going.

"Spare me your clever comments. There is only one thing I need from you and you know perfectly well what it is," the commander leans forward and whispers coldly. "You owe me two thousand Denarii and I need them now." His words hiss like a venomous snake into the young man's ear.

"You will get your money but I am afraid not today as I do not have it." Quintus looks the man in the eyes without blinking. His voice is surprisingly calm.

"I will not wait any longer. Either you give them to me right now, or I swear to Jupiter, I will send my men to your mother and precious little sister Silvia. And trust me, my men know how to spend time."

"You will not dare, Sextus!" The young man rises from his seat, clenching his fists.

"Try me!"

A quick and powerful punch sends one of the soldiers flying across the room. The second soldier joins him in a few seconds, thudding on a table, breaking it in half. The noise and screams get louder as the fight gets more heated. Apparently Quintus is well known and respected in this tavern, as some people volunteer to help him and smash plates and amphoras over the heads of the soldiers who had driven their swords out to attack their commander's rival.

Meanwhile Quintus grabs the commander's wrist, squeezing so tightly that the man cries out and his sword falls out of his hold. The young man grabs Sextus' hair and bangs his head against the table, breaking his nose and eyebrow. He's ready to repeat it when a new voice sounds behind them:

"Enough!"

The butcher, who had been sitting at the table and watching the scene without participating in it and Quintus, who's holding the commander's neck ready to break it in any minute, turn their heads to see Aulus Valerius Martialis, a lanista, the owner of a gladiators' school.

"What are you asking of this man, Sextus?" His narrow, grey eyes study the bloody face of the commander, flailing in the young warrior's hold.

"He owes me two thousand Denarii and doesn't want to pay," Sextus barks, still trying to break free.

"Is that true?" Aulus shifts his gaze from the commander to Quintus, who lowers his gaze. Aulus is a very respected citizen of Rome.

"I see," Aulus nods slowly. "How about we make a deal," he suggests suddenly.

"A deal? What deal?" Quintus asks suspiciously.

"What would you say if I paid these two thousand Denarii for you?"

"Why would you do that?" The young man narrows his eyes, looking at the lanista doubtfully. Of course Aulus will ask for something in return, he only wonders what.

"Maybe because I am a generous man and want to help you?" Aulus smiles.

Quintus snorts. "Of course. And you wouldn't ask for something from my side. What is it that you want from me?"

"I've been watching you for some time and know how experienced and skillful a warrior you are. I want you to join the rows of my gladiators. If you win twenty times in a row, without a single defeat, you will be a free man again. What do you say?"

Quintus lets out a shuddering breath. There is no way in all the underworld that he can find this much money or another opportunity to earn it. He is indeed very experienced, has been in many battles, fought against numerous tribes and he knows what he's capable of. Twenty victories. That's the only thing being asked of him.

"I agree," the young man says after a moment's hesitation.

"Good." The lanista rubs his hands together. "Now release the man for Jupiter's sake."

Sextus is thrown into a violent fit of coughing as soon as Quintus lets go of him. The commander rubs his aching throat, glaring daggers at the young man.

"Sextus, come for your money tomorrow at noon. I will gladly share Athenian fine wine with you." Aulus pats the commander's shoulder.

After the commander and his beaten-up soldiers leave the tavern, Aulus turns to the young warrior.

"Are you ready to come with me?"

Quintus throws a look at the secret room's door, remembering Demetrius, who's probably tired of waiting, and lets out a throaty chuckle.

"Can you give me one more hour, lanista?"

Aulus arches his brows. "An hour? What do you need it for?"

Quintus shifts from one foot to another, feeling a bit embarrassed. But before he answers his butcher friend cuts in:

"You see lanista, there is a very appetizing piece of ass waiting for him in that room and probably whining like a little bitch."

Aulus lets out a loud, pleasant laugh. "Oh, my apologies. Of course, by all means, go and enjoy yourself. I will just take a seat right here and have a nice chat with your friend. Go."

Quintus mutters his thanks and heads towards the secret room to keep his promise: to stretch Demetrius' delicious ass down on his dick.


	2. Chapter 2

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Reminder: Quintus Atticus is Dean and Cassius Valerius Martialis is Cas in their past lives.

**Author's note:** Actually I quite love Demetrius. Poor baby…. Oh and you will meet Cas in this chapter ;)

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After thoroughly wrecking Demetrius to the point where he won't be able to walk for a few days, Quintus tells him that he will not be able to visit and see him for a long time, as he is becoming a gladiator. The Greek prostitute bursts into tears and cries like a child against Quintus' chest. Poor boy, he's hopelessly fallen in love with the green-eyed man, that's why he would refuse to accept money from Quintus for the last few weeks.

"Don't go, please don't go!" He sobs and clutches Quintus' tunic, hot tears staining the fabric.

"Hush now, little one," Quintus croons, rocking the prostitute in his arms, 'till the bitter sobs become subdued. "I need only twenty victories. Aulus promised that after those victories I will be a free man again." His hand caresses Demetrius' long, silky hair. He can't say that he's in love with the boy, but definitely has some tender feelings for him.

"Lies." Demetrius raises his head. "Quintus, no one will let you go. You will die there, either in the arena or Gods will think of other way to end your life."

"You little fool." Quintus chuckles, masking the flinch caused by Demetrius' words behind a laugh. "Twenty victories shouldn't be that hard. I've been in many battles and have survived worse than fighting against some puny, week-ass men."

Demetrius just sighs and snuggles closer, seeking comfort in the man's embrace, which causes a smile on Quintus' face. Maybe when he's a free man again he could come back here and take Demetrius with him, pulling the younger man out of the swamp he's in. Yes, that could work!

"Gods know I would love to hear your screams and shouting my name again, just like you were doing a few minutes ago, but I am afraid my cock will rip your little, pretty ass apart if I touch you now. Besides, Aulus is waiting for me outside. He was too kind to give an hour to me so I could spend this time with you." Quintus grabs Demetrius' chin and plants a long kiss on his mouth.

"Please, promise me that you will come back!" the Greek mutters frantically against the green-eyed man's neck, not wanting to move from Quintus' lap.

Minutes pass quickly and with a heavy heart Quintus is forced to leave Demetrius. He can hear the distraught man's pitiful sobs behind the closed door. The prostitute's warning words still ring in his ears and he hurries to walk to Aulus, who's busy chatting with the butcher.

As Quintus finds out later that night, Aulus is full of surprises: he lets the young man meet with his family to bid goodbye to his mother and sister.

Quintus' mother Octavia faints after hearing about her son's future fate. Quintus and Silvia bring her back to consciousness, trying their best to soothe the weeping woman, but it doesn't help.

It has been a horrible day and Quintus doesn't feel like talking. He hugs his mother and sister tightly, promising that he will be back in a year at most, that he will send them money earned from his victories. Octavia just keeps shaking her head, saying that no money is worth her son's life.

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The ludus or the gladiator school owned by Aulus Valerius Martialis is located in the same yard as his villa. Being one of the richest and most famous citizens of Rome, Aulus has luxury to have his own school consisting of thirty gladiators, trainers and medical staff.

It's late at night when they reach Aulus' villa. Not wanting to stir fuss and unnecessary problems amongst the gladiators, Aulus sends Quintus into an empty cell. He will present him to the rest of the gladiators in the morning.

Next morning at sunrise Quintus is taken out of his cell and into the yard where thirty gladiators and their trainers are standing in a row, waiting for their master to show up.

"Aulus! Aulus! Aulus!" They roar in synch as their owner appears, accompanied by a stranger.

Aulus raises his hand with a smile, greeting his gladiators. "May the gods bless this day," he begins. "I want to introduce someone to you. This man is to join your rows and become your friend from today. Please welcome Quintus Atticus." He smacks the young man on the back.

"Is he as good in bed as he looks?" laughs a huge Ethiopian gladiator named Hargo.

"I bet he is," agrees another gladiator, a Celt named Bricius. "He would look pretty between my legs with his cocksucking lips on my dick."

A roaring laughter shakes the yard and Quintus turns deathly pale, all the blood leaving his face. He starts to shake visibly and grits his teeth, when Aulus leans towards his ear.

"Calm down. It's their usual greeting for newbies."

"I don't care. If anyone tries to touch me, you will have one gladiator less in your school, lanista." Quintus fumes in rage.

Aulus decides not to pay attention to the hot-blooded young man's threats and turns to the crowd. "Return to your daily schedules."

As the gladiators start to break up, he turns to Quintus. "You come with me. We need to decide what type of a gladiator to make out of you."

Leaving bawdy expressions like "Precious, come to me this night, my cock will be waiting for you", Quintus follows his master, first to go through medical examination and then to see trainers.

* * *

As it turns out Quintus' health is perfect. Short but thorough sparring also shows how good he is in a sword fight, what his strengths and weaknesses are. After a brief discussion and considering Quintus' skills, the trainers and Aulus come to decision to make him a Thraex – a gladiator with a square-shaped shield and a Thracian curved sword. Like most Thraex, or Thracians, he will wear trouser-like leg wrappings, loincloth, a belt, a pair of long shin-guards or greaves, an arm guard (manica) on the sword-arm, and a broad-rimmed helmet that encloses his entire head, distinguished by a stylized griffin or front of the crest.

Being a generous man, Aulus likes to treat his gladiators well. He feeds them three times a day, cares for their health and accommodation and also, provides prostitutes of either sex once a week. Especially after successful fights in the arena. The gladiators bring him a lot of money and Aulus is kind enough to reward them for it.

At noon after the gladiators break for their second meal, Quintus is sent to join them. With his plate full of meat, bread and cheese he walks among the benches trying to find a vacant and isolated place. It's his first day at the ludus and all he wants to do is sit down, eat his meal in silence and watch the other gladiators from a distance.

He barely manages to sit down and take a bite of his cheese, when a merry voice sounds right above his head.

"I'm Judoc. Mind if I join you?"

Quintus stops chewing and looks up to see the intruder. He's met with a young man, aged between twenty-three-twenty-five, with vivid, hazel eyes and mahagony hair.

"No," Quintus mutters under his breath. He's decided that maybe it's not too bad to have a companion, especially who could tell him more about this place.

"Thank you." Judoc plops down with a happy smile on his face. He's lean but with nicely defined muscles. "How come you're here?" He asks curiously, biting the roasted meat on his plate.

"Life," Quintus growls quietly.

"I understand," Judoc nods. "We can all be fools. It's in our nature and there's nothing we can do about it. I've been here for ten years. Got captured in my homeland while running after sheep."

"Ten years?" Quintus almost chokes.

"Yes. I got used to it. I had no one in my homeland. No parents, no relatives. I served a rich man as a shepherd. The Romans captured me and brought here where our master bought me at the slave market." Judoc washes down the meal with cheap wine. Aulus had permitted one cup of wine during a day.

"Have you fought in the arena?" Quintus asks and immediately regrets asking the question, feeling embarrassed. Of course the man would've fought in the arena during ten years. What a silly question!

"Of course I have. I've fought sixty-two times. Forty victories and twenty-two defeats. Aulus has one special rule: after a defeat no one gets killed, though you don't get paid. I am not the strongest amongst my brothers, I admit." The young man shrugs with a smile.

"Brothers? But you said you didn't have family?" Quintus asks.

"These people, all these gladiators are my brothers. We are brothers in arms. All of us. You will get used to it." Judoc sounds sincere and his voice is full of respect when he talks about the other gladiators.

"I was a fool," Quintus begins suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"I liked to gamble and lost a lot of money, two thousand Denarii in fact." After a surprised whistle from Judoc, he continues. "Of course I didn't have this much money. Aulus found me in a tavern and paid them for me, demanding only twenty victories of me."

"Twenty victories are not a problem." Judoc sounds cryptic.

"Then what is the problem?" Quintus asks puzzled.

"Time. You never know when these twenty fights will take place. It can be weeks, months or years, my friend."

Gods damn it! Why didn't he think about it before agreeing to the deal? What if he spends next ten years like Judoc at this place? Who knows how much time it will take him to have those twenty fights? He's about to bang his fists against the table in despair, when his new friend's hand gently shakes him by the shoulder.  
"Quintus, wake up. Master is calling us."

Once again the gladiators, now including Quintus, stand in a row in front of their master and trainers. It appears that Aulus is departing and indeed, his following words confirm it.

"I am leaving to meet with my friend Claudius Avitus to discuss the schedule of your future fights in the arena. Let us hope Fortuna smiles upon us."

The roar the gladiators make is deafening.

Aulus, accompanied by the guards and servants, leaves the yard and the gate behind them closes. Quintus wants to ask something when he feels a burning gaze. He looks up at the balcony of the villa and meets the owner of the piecing stare.

It is a young man clad in a white toga, a few years younger than him, with cold, blue eyes and an arrogant look on his pretty face. The corner of his lips twitch into a loathing smirk when their eyes meet.

Quintus swallows nervously but doesn't look away. The young man lets out a huff, empties the silver goblet, which he is holding with his lean fingers, turns around and quickly goes inside the house.

"Who was that?" Quintus asks Judoc, without shifting his gaze from the balcony where the young man was standing just a few seconds ago.

"That was Cassius Valerius Martialis. The only son of our master." Judoc lowers his voice and looks around to see that they are alone.

"One bit of advice, Quintus. If you don't want any trouble, stay as far away from Cassius as possible."

Judoc quickly walks away, leaving a confused Quintus behind.

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	3. Chapter 3

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I added a new chapter to **Thirty Shades of Destiel** which was called **Fifty Shades of Destiel** if you have not seen it. Why I changed the name of the story is explained in the fic.

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Chapter 3

Forum Romanum, located in the small valley between the Palatine and Capitoline Hills is the center of Roman public life: the site of triumphant processions and elections; the venue for public speeches, criminal trials, and gladiatorial matches; and the nucleus of commercial affairs. Here statues and monuments commemorate the city's great men.

Many of the oldest and most important structures of the ancient city are located on or near the Forum. The Roman kingdom's earliest shrines and temples are located on the southeastern edge; these include the ancient former royal residence, the Regia, and the Temple of Vesta.

Other archaic shrines to the northwest, such as the Umbilicus Urbis and the Vulcanal (Shrine of Vulcan), developed into the Republic's formal Comitium (assembly area). This is where the Senate—as well as Republican government itself—began. The Senate House, government offices, tribunals, temples, memorials and statues gradually expanded until they cluttered the area.

The organizer of gladiator fights is Claudius Avitus, a man of noble (patrician) origin. He is Aulus' good friend, helping the man schedule and organize gladiator fights accordingly. Claudius is always happy and eager to hear any news while sitting with his friend in his mesmerizing orchard, sipping cold Etruscan wine.

After hearing about a new gladiator at Aulus' ludus and how good his skills are, Claudius shows great interest and immediately orders five fights during a month with Quintus participating in them.

"I would like to see the man in action, my friend," Claudius tells Aulus. "I hope he is as good as you're describing him."

"Trust me Claudius. We've been childhood friends. Has there been an occasion when I've deceived or lied to you?" Aulus puts down his goblet, tearing a small piece from a fresh grape.

"No, of course you haven't," Claudius shakes his head. "It's just that the man has no experience in the arena. Do you think he will be able to give people a good performance?"

"I am more than sure. I've seen him in action." Aulus wipes his forehead. "Gods damn it, it's hot like in Numidia. I'm afraid Jupiter is angry with us and has decided to fry us under this burning sun."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Claudius chuckles. "By the way, how is Cassius? I have not seen him much lately."

"I'm afraid he is not much interested in gladiators and their management. The only things that interest him are wine and prostitutes. I do not know what will become of the school when gods take my life away. I should be stricter and teach him how to manage ludus when I'm not there." Aulus rubs his chin, thinking he might have made a mistake in how he raised his only son.

"Cassius is a clever young man. Have no worries my friend. He will learn quickly," Claudius assures his friend.

Aulus nods absentmindedly, still deep in thoughts. His friend's words don't convince him much. After his wife had died giving birth to their only child and his promise to her that he would take care of the boy, Aulus had been doing his best to keep the promise and spoiling his son in every possible way, until he'd realized that he had given nothing valuable to the boy, turning him into a twenty-five year old who was spoiled, arrogant and cynical.  
Aulus just prays to gods that it's not too late to try and beat some sense into his son's head. Claudius' voice withdraws him from his thoughts and with a sigh Aulus follows him inside the villa for dinner.

* * *

When Aulus comes back to the villa, he informs the gladiators that after three days twelve gladiators chosen by him will participate in the fights. It will be a mass fight: Aulus' twelve gladiators vs Gaius Catus' twelve gladiators.

After the lanista calls the names of the participating gladiators and hearing his name amongst them, Quintus gets anxious and excited. He's antsy for the rest of the day, thinking about the upcoming fight. He asks Judoc, who is not participating, about the arena and drinks in every last detail, whether it is actually important or not.

Quintus wants to prove to Aulus that he is worth those two thousand Denarii the man paid for him. He wants to win and prove to the other gladiators that he is not a weakling. And more importantly, he wants to earn and save money to send to his family and for Demetrius' freedom.

Quintus becomes so anxious and obsessed about the fight that he isn't able to sleep normally during the remaining days before it begins.

* * *

The first seconds spent in the arena will forever be seared into Quintus' brain: roaring crowd, screaming women and shouting men, chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

For a few seconds he doesn't see or notice anything except the crowd's blood-thirsty eyes and hysterical screams. Quintus is busy contemplating the public with slightly agape mouth until his fellow gladiator Eurimachos kicks him in the ribs with his elbow.

"Wake up you idiot!"

Quintus starts, grabbing the shield and his sword tightly and shifts his gaze from the crowd to his rivals.

The clash is horrendous: the sharp sounds of clanking shields and swords are so loud that they overcover screams from the public. Soon after shattered helmets, broken shields and swords begin to fall in the yellow sand of the arena. Raging and furious yells from the gladiators shake the walls of the arena.

By mutual consent Aulus and Gaius had agreed to have one special rule: the gladiators would not fight till death. They could wound each other, even mutilate but not kill. The gladiator who would fall in the sand would be considered defeated.

Ten minutes have barely passed and there already are four wounded and defeated gladiators, groaning and cursing under their noses. They quickly roll or crawl aside, not to get under the fighters feet.

Aulus and Gaius, both seated with famous citizens and senators of Rome on a special place in the arena, cheer on their gladiators with loud shouts and praises.

The audience doesn't seem to be bored judging by their applause and shouts. But amongst cheerful shouts one can hear curses and swearing too. A lot of people have made bets and their reactions vary according to events developing in the arena.  
After an hour Aulus' team is left with two remaining undefeated Gladiators – Hargo, the huge Ethiopian gladiator and Quintus, against Gaius' five gladiators.

"Seems like it's our lucky day, princess!" Hargo shouts at Quintus over his shoulder.

"When we win, you will stop calling me that stupid name," Quintus growls back.

Hargo lets out a thunderous laughter, headbutts an exhausted rival and sends him face down into the sand.

"Deal. But let us win first."

The next moments are a blur. In the whirlwind of sand Quintus barely sees Hargo fighting against three gladiators while he's busy blocking the strikes of his own rival. The Ethiopian gladiator is very strong but he also has limits; Hargo is covered in multiple wounds and his strength is fading. He is able to send one more rival into the sand before he falls down: the gladiator from Gaius' team stabs him in the thigh. Exhausted man loses his balance and falls down grunting painfully.

Thus Quintus is left alone facing three gladiators. By this time the audience has gone crazy.

"Quintus! Quintus! Quintus!" They roar and stamp their feet.

The young man swallows nervously, studying his rivals carefully, searching for their weaknesses. Though no one gives him enough time for it.

One of the rivals surges forward, bringing down a strike but Quintus blocks it with his shield and kicks the man in his stomach, sending him flying a few feet away.

Using his rivals' momentary confusion, Quintus attacks the last two gladiators with all the remaining strength. His furious roars and onslaught have an intimidating effect on them and they slowly retreat. The young warrior attacks the rival standing nearest, with a terrible strike shatters his helmet and punches him between the eyes. The man falls down like a sack of potatoes.

Quintus' last rival is a young man, approximately twenty-two years old, covered in blood and gashes. They are deep but not deadly. The boy is barely standing on his feet, clearly swaying and Quintus doesn't want to hurt him much.

With a few quick maneuvers Quintus disarms the boy, kicking him with his shield. The green-eyed man drops his sword and simply pushes the boy in his chest with a bare hand. Exhausted from a draining fight the boy loses his balance and falls down on his back, not even trying to stand up or roll on his side while trying to regain his breathing.

Quintus drops his shield and looks up at the tribunes where his master is sitting. And he can't help but smile when he notices Aulus Valerius Martialis standing and applauding with a joyous face.

Quintus knows that he's done a terrific job.

* * *

The fight brings Aulus a lot of money, even more than what he'd expected. To celebrate the brilliant victory of his gladiators, Aulus frees them from tiring training that day and lets them have a small feast with fine wine and prostitutes specially brought for them.  
After the victory in the arena the gladiators accept Quintus as their friend and equal, giving manly hugs and pats on the back. And no one calls him the mocking names after that day.

Quintus has just finished bathing in a small pool which the gladiators share, drying himself and his long hair when a loud laughter and women's happy screeching reaches his hearing. He snorts knowingly. Of course his friends would be having fun with prostitutes. Quintus sighs, recalling Demetrius and feeling a slight pang in his heart when Judoc's head appears in the doorway.

"Quintus, there is a visitor for you waiting outside!"

"A visitor?" The young man turns around but Judoc is already gone.

As soon as Quintus walks out someone leaps at him, wrapping their body around the young warrior's body.

"Quintus, oh gods how much I missed you!" Demetrius whimpers into his ear.

"Demetrius!" Quintus sounds surprised but excited. "How did you get here?"

"Aulus sent men to bring me here to you." Demetrius is kissing the young warrior's neck, grinding his hips against Quintus crotch setting it on fire.

Quintus growls, grabbing the Greek prostitute under his ass and leans against the nearest column. He quickly removes Demetrius' loincloth and begins to stretch him impatiently with spit-slicked fingers.

Demetrius' lustful moans and shouts can be heard throughout the yard and some of the gladiators come out of their cells (where they've been fucking their own prostitutes) to see what's happening. After seeing Quintus ruthlessly fucking the prostitute, they start to laugh heartily and encourage the fellow gladiator with cheerful shouts.

And thus, under their encouragements and Demetrius' lewd moans Quintus shoots his release deep inside the younger man.

Quintus is sitting on the ground with Demetrius in his lap and they kiss lazily, when the green-eyed man feels the familiar, piercing gaze again. Quintus stops caressing Demetrius hair to look up at the balcony.

And of course Cassius is there, staring at the gladiator with his arrogant, cold eyes. Quintus must admit the he is a very attractive man. Had they met in different circumstances, who knows maybe he would bend Cassius over a table and fuck him until he screamed his name over and over again.

Without a word Cassius goes inside the villa, once again leaving confused Quintus behind. The young gladiator doesn't understand what his master's son wants from him until two days later.

It's a quiet night at the villa. Aulus is gone to attend a friend's daughter's wedding. The gladiators are all in their cells after a tiring day. Quintus is getting ready to go to sleep when guards open the door of his cell.

"Get up. Master Cassius wants to see you."

The guards take him inside the house and the room where Cassius is sitting on armchair. His wearing a short, white tunic and a laurel wreath around his head. His lean but strong legs are parted and there is a woman settled between them, with her head under the tunic. Cassius lets out a loud moan when the prostitute's tongue touches a sensitive spot on his cock. His blue eyes are filled with lust and half closed. Another prostitute is standing behind his armchair, giving the young man a gentle massage.

Quintus shifts awkwardly not understanding why he's been summoned. As if hearing his thoughts, Cassius straightens and pulls the prostitute away.

"Everyone out. You stay," he says briefly, looking at the gladiator.

The guards and women leave the room hurriedly, leaving two men behind.

Cassius stands up and walks toward Quintus with slow steps, contemplating the green-eyed man's half naked body greedily.

"Do you know why I summoned you?" his deep voice sounds in the room.

"No master," Quintus responds, lowering his gaze.

"Remove your loincloth," Cassius orders briefly.

Quintus' brows furrow, not liking the tone of the young man.

"I said, remove your loincloth!" Cassius' voice is sharp like steel.

The gladiator swallows hard but obeys. The loincloth falls down on the floor near its owner's feet, leaving the gladiator stark naked.

Caasius purrs like a cat and slides his hand from Quintus' neck down his spine, stopping at his waist.

"I saw you fucking the prostitute that day. And judging by his screams the boy loved what you were doing to him. I want you to pleasure me with your lips and tongue. On your knees!" Cassius stops walking around the gladiator to look him in the eyes.

"What?" Quintus' voice instantly goes hoarse.

"On your knees, Slave!" Cassius hisses, leaning forward, his blue eyes flashing thunder. "You will suck my dick whenever I tell you to!"

Quintus begins to shake and he's using all of his willpower not to strangle the younger man in front of him.

"No!" he grits through his teeth.

"No?" Cassius arches his brows amazed.

"No. I am not a prostitute." His green eyes meet the gaze full of loathing. "I am a gladiator, not a whore."

"Either you will do as I say or you will regret it," Cassius says calmly and his voice sends chills down the gladiator's spine.

The two of them stare at each other. The blue eyes are full of mockery, while the owner of the green eyes is mentally strangling his master's monstrous son.


	4. Chapter 4

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One more chapter till I close the Roman theme and move to the MAIN plot ;)

* * *

Chapter 4

Cassius tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing to tiny blue dots. How dare this filthy slave refuse his desire?

"Have you forgotten your place? How dare you tell me 'no', you abomination? YOU HAVE NO RIGHTS!" Cassius hisses unpleasantly, like an angry, raring snake ready to attack.

Before Quintus opens his mouth for an answer, Cassius' hand is grabbing his hair. "First, you will suck my cock, nice and slow and then you will present your fine ass to me, so I can fuck you like the dirty whore you are."

Quintus is thinking he may have no other choice other than to kill this little piece of shit in front of him and then be ready for his own death, when a guard walks into the room.

"Master Cassius, your father wishes to speak to you. He is waiting for you in the olive garden."

Cassius rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated. "Can't it wait, Titus? I am busy here."

"I am sorry Master Cassius, but he said it's very important." The guard shifts uncomfortably.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming." Cassius lets go of his grip on Quintus' hair and rearranges his clothes, hissing almost inaudibly when the tunic rubs against his hard member. "You can thank gods for saving your ass tonight," Cassius says with a glare at Quintus, "but I promise the day will come when I will impale you on my cock. Get out."

Quintus grabs his loincloth and hurries up to leave the room, rushing out and wrapping the fabric around his hips on his way out. He doesn't turn around to see if Cassius is behind him, simply follows the guards who brought him into the villa. The only thing he cares for now is getting into his cell and having a drink of water, as his throat feels scratchy and dry.

When he gets inside the barracks and the guards lock the door behind him, Quintus swears loudly, punching the nearest wall.

"Quintus, are you alright?" Judoc asks from his cell, walking towards the door of his cell.

"I want to kill that son of a bitch!" Quintus snarls, spitting aside. His whole body is shaking with fuming rage.

"Who are you talking about? What happened?" Judoc asks quietly.

"Cassius. That little piece of shit. He thinks I am a whore and he can use me as he wants!"

"I see. Did you…" Judoc doesn't finish his question, feeling uncomfortable.

"Of course not!" Quintus shouts indignantly. "I would never do that! Aulus came back from the wedding and he wanted to talk to his arrogant dick of a son."

"Well, you should pray for Aulus' well being, then. He saved you today." A new voice cuts in – Bricius. "I don't envy you, brother. Cassius is a spoiled bastard, whom I'd gladly strangle with my own hands," he adds after a while.

"What are you going to do?" Judoc asks worriedly.

"If he summons me again for the same purpose, help me gods I will castrate and make him eat his own cock." Quintus grits his teeth.

After a short silence Bricius bursts into laughter and surprisingly all the rest of the gladiators who had to be sleeping, join him.

"You fuckers, you have been listening haven't you?" Quintus can't help but smile.

"Of course, it's hard not to notice you when you are stomping and roaring like a bear!" someone shouts from the depth of the barracks.

"Oh, kiss my ass!" Quintus retorts jokingly.

"Sorry sweetheart, I prefer women. Ask Cassius, he would gladly do it!"

Roaring laughter shakes the walls of the barracks and Quintus gets inside his cell, shaking his head and laughing. He couldn't be happier to have such great friends.

* * *

"Father, you wanted to see me?" Cassius walks to Aulus, who's sitting on a bench under an old olive tree, listening to the crickets and enjoying the fresh air.

"Yes, my son. Have a seat beside me." Aulus taps the bench, waiting for his son to sit down.

"What is it that you want to talk about?"

Aulus takes a deep breath, holds it in for a few seconds and exhales slowly. "I want to teach you how to manage ludus. You are not interested in this business, but you need to understand that this is the main source of our income."

"But Father…" Cassius begins but is cut off.

"You need to learn how to respect these people, Cassius. They bring us money. If not for them we wouldn't be as wealthy as we are now. I may die one day, leaving everything behind. What will you do then? Most of the gladiators we have are contracted. Some of them are to be released after a few months, some of them in weeks. I want to teach you everything I know, my son." Aulus puts his hand on the young man's shoulder. "You need to understand that I am doing this for you."

Cassius purses his lips, sinking into thoughts. As much as he hates to admit it, his father is right. It's their main business and the source of their wealth.

"Alright, Father. I will take management lessons from you but not tonight, please."

Aulus laughs pleasantly. "Of course. Whenever you are ready, my son. Just don't postpone it too much."

* * *

It's unbelievable but the demand for Quintus in the arena is very high, and after forty-five days he has twelve victories. The money he earns and saves is more than enough for his family and Demetrius' freedom.

At their next meeting Quintus gives the Greek prostitute five hundred Denarii (the price the tavern owner paid for him) and tells him that he can buy his freedom from the tavern's owner. The poor boy passes out from nervousness and after a frightened Quintus pours a bucket of cold water over his body, Demetrius comes to his senses and cries for what seems like eternity. He keeps mumbling feverishly that he won't leave and will wait 'til Quintus is a free man, while the gladiator rocks him in his arms, calling him a "little fool". Soon after the tears are forgotten and Demetrius' screams of pleasure fill Quintus' cell.

* * *

It had been a normal day for everyone: gladiators training, slaves and servants working inside the villa, the garden or other places, Cassius doing nothing but enjoying his time with expensive hetaeras and no one had expected the news that was like a clap of thunder in a clear sky. A sweaty and rumpled messenger had run into the yard of the villa screaming something incomprehensible. The gladiators had stopped their training, even Cassius coming down into the yard to hear what was going on.

When the messenger drank a whole amphora of cold water and regained his breathing, everyone who had been present in the yard gasped in shock: Aulus had been murdered at the market by an assassin. Two stabs in the stomach and a slit to his throat. Cassius, without saying a word, had left with the messenger to see his father's body.

* * *

After Aulus' corpse is bathed and perfumed and dressed in the richest robes it's laid upon a couch strewn with flowers, with the feet pointing towards the outer door. Coins are placed under his tongue to ensure a safe journey to the underworld.

The nearest relatives and friends of the deceased carry his body. The funeral procession is attended by musicians, mourning women and men hired to sing the praises of one the most famous citizens of Rome. The hired mourners are wearing the ancestral imagines, funerary masks, of Aulus' ancestors, listening to the eulogy read during the procession.

Cassius watches silently as his father's body is laid upon an altar. He takes the torch and sets fire to it, as the mourners throw perfumes and spices onto the bonfire.

Aulus' ashes will be collected and deposited in an urn, to be kept in the mausoleum of the family. There will be offerings of food and drink to the dead together with animal sacrifices. This is the only thing left they can do to show their respect to Aulus Valerius Martialis.

Cassius locks himself up in his father's working room, sitting at the table, covered in papers, books, ink and quills. He unfolds and examines the contracts, reading when the gladiators' serving dates expire. His lean fingers tap against the table, while the young master of Martialis' villa thinks about the decision he is about to make.

The gladiators are summoned in to the yard during their resting hour. It must be something important, as Aulus had never gathered them before at this hour.

They all stand in row and look up at the balcony, where Cassius is standing, holding some papers in his hands. He looks down at the gathered gladiators with an unreadable, cold stare and begins:

"I have gathered you here to tell you the following news. As you know my father hired each of you on the basis of individual contracts. These are your contracts I am holding in my hand. And now, they are valid no more." The young man rips the papers and throws them into the air.

"Does that mean that we are free men?" one of the gladiators asks.

Cassius' lip quirks into a smirk. "No. It means you are to stay here. Forever."

The indignant and loud rumble stirs in the gladiators and they start to shout angrily. Quintus can see that the situation is getting out of control and that there will be blood as the guards are unsheathing their swords, ready for attack if the gladiators start to riot.

"Please calm, dawn!" Quintus puts himself between his friends and the guards, raising his hands placating. "We are not going to do anything! Please stand down. My friends, let's return to our cells."

Something in Quintus' voice defuses the situation. The gladiators know him well by now and they know that Quintus has a plan. They obey without any more hassle and follow him into the barracks, just throwing some snarky comments at the guards.

As soon as they are inside the barracks his thirty friends gather around him, waiting for an explanation.

"I know that you are thinking of something, Quintus. Share it with us," Dexus, a Gaul gladiator speaks up.

"I am not sure of what we can do in this situation." Hargo scratches his head, looking at his friends.

"But I know," Quintus says quietly.

"And what would that be?" Judoc asks suspiciously, sensing that something big is coming.

Quintus throws a careful glance at the entrance door and then at his friends. His answer is simple, but the words resonate among the gathered men like a boom of thunder.

"We escape."


	5. Chapter 5

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* * *

Chapter 5

"What are you talking about?" Bricius breaks the silence, gaping at his fellow gladiator. "What escape?"

"You heard me. We escape from this place!" Quintus lowers his voice so as not to draw attention of the guards.

"Quintus, have gods sent madness upon you?" Hargo frowns, folding his arms on his chest. "Or have you fried your brains from being under the sun for too long?"

"No, I assure you, I am perfectly sane." Quintus is getting frustrated. "We cannot stay here any longer. Have you heard him? He will not let us go and we will probably die here. He will keep us locked like caged beasts, 'till we fall in the arena. Is this what you want? Don't you want to return to your families? Do you want to spend the rest of your days at this rotting place?"

Judoc steps forward, placing his hand on Quintus' shoulder. "I hear you, brother. But do you want Rome to send legions after us? You are forgetting that Aulus had many good friends amongst the senators."

"Aulus is dead. May his soul rest in peace," Quintus says remorsefully.

"Aulus may be dead but Cassius can contact them," Bricius objects.

"Not if we send the bastard to his ancestors."

"What?" all the gladiators exclaim in shock.

"If we kill Cassius, no one will inform the senate. Everyone loathes him. They are afraid of him but do not love or respect him. Do you think soldiers, servants or slaves will go to the senate and tell them about the murder of their monstrous owner? No, they will be glad that the son of a bitch is dead. Then, by the time the news reach the senate we will be far away with our families and loved ones." Quintus exhales sharply and takes a good look at his friends.

No one says anything for a while, a deep concentration and thoughtfulness on their faces, before Judoc finally speaks.

"To fulfill your insane venture we will need a detailed plan." He steps forward and stands beside his best friend.

"Thank you!" Quintus says sincerely, his eyes shining from gratitude. Judoc just winks at him.

"What about the rest of you? Are you with me?" Quintus shifts his gaze from one gladiator to another.

"We are brothers in arms, ready to die for each other at any time. You can count on me." Hargo stands beside Quintus. "Besides, someone has to protect your precious ass." He chuckles and slaps the younger man's ass amicably.

"Asshole," Quintus snorts but in another second finds himself almost squashed in Hargo's bone-crushing hug.

"So, do you have a plan for how we're going to escape?" Bricius asks.

"Not a detailed one but I'm working on it. The first thing we need to do is act natural, not to draw any attention. We will continue doing our daily tasks as if nothing's changed," Quintus explains.

"Sounds good to me," Hargo nods.

"I will think about the details tonight and will tell you tomorrow night, when we return to our cells," Quintus promises.

After a short while the gladiators go to their cells to rest a little before returning to the tiring exercising.

* * *

As it turns out Quintus' plan is very risky. First of all they need to bribe a guard of the barracks so he won't lock the door, then someone needs to open the door of the house from the inside, so the gladiators could sneak into the house and find Cassius.

"We will not kill him," Quintus goes on. "We will take him hostage so we could go through the gates. We will tell the commander of the guards that they can find Cassius in the woods next day at noon. We will have enough time to leave Rome before then."

"Will you spare his life?" Judoc asks cautiously.

Quintus falls silent, thinking about the answer. "No," he says finally. "If I spare his life he will find more unfortunate souls to torture."

"Fair enough," Judoc nods.

"When are we planning to escape?" Hargo enquires.

"After three days."

"Why exactly after three days? Is there a special reason?" someone asks quietly.

"Yes. After three days it's Marcus' shift and it will be easier for us. We all know how much he loves money. He is the easiest to bribe. Also, we need to ask him to bring us our swords." Quintus' answer causes whispers amongst the gladiators.

"What guarantees do you have that Marcus will agree to help us?" Bricius sounds doubtful.

Quintus chuckles. "For enough money he would sell his own mother."

"Alright, let's say we bribe Marcus, he provides us with swords and leaves the doors of barracks open. Then what?" asks Eurimachos. He is not a talkative type but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to participate in the whole venture.

"We kill only those who try to stop us. We will not touch anyone who decides to yield. It will be better if our group divides. While one half of the group will take the responsibility to control the situation with the guards of the barracks, the other half should take care of the guards at the house, so they won't have time to wake up Cassius."

"That's good but we have yet to find someone who will unlock the door for us from the inside. I do not know anyone who will want to do it for us," Bricius says with a shrug.

"But I know," Alirick, a young Teuton gladiator speaks. "I will ask Amynthia. But then, I will need her to come with us. I would rather die than see her suffer." The young man blushes a little.

"I see Cupid has wounded your heart mercilessly," Quintus smiles at his friend's confession. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, my friend. If anything, love is the most beautiful feeling in the world. Even the gods are powerless against it."

"You speak like a poet. Your words are so touching I could cry." Hargo wipes off the imaginary tear and everyone bursts into laughter.

They keep talking, discussing and considering each small detail of the plan till late at night. Thus, it's decided to bribe Marcus, ask Amynthia to unlock the door at midnight and take Cassius hostage. But before doing all of it, there is one thing they need to do: pray to all existing deities, especially to Fortuna, to be on their side in this risky venture.

* * *

Unsurprisingly Marcus is not the one they need a lot of time to persuade. The next day at noon when the gladiators have their second meal, Quintus finds Marcus and has a brief talk with him. His friends watch them across the table. At first Marcus frowns, his face displeased and indignant but after Quintus moves to the part where money is involved, the man's face brightens up. He and the gladiator exchange a few more words and then Quintus returns to the table.

"He agreed. He will come to collect his money tonight."

"That's great. Now, we have to hope that Amynthia agrees and will be able to assist us." Judoc takes a look at his friends.

"I will do my best," Alirick mumbles and bites his bread.

As it turns out Amynthia is more difficult to persuade, which is not surprising, as she is a mere slave, afraid of her master and severe punishment. But after a few burning kisses, stolen in the corners of Martialis' villa, the girl agrees.

Alirick listens attentively and approves of his beloved's plan: she will pour tincture into the guards' wine that will make them fall asleep, so she can steal the keys and unlock the door.

* * *

_The day of the planned escape_

The shadows of thirty-one gladiators sneak out of the barracks into the silent yard. The door creaks and closes behind them. The yard is eerily silent, which is very suspicious. There are no guards, not even a random servant or a slave around.

"Quintus, I don't like this. Where is Marcus? He said that he wouldn't interfere in our business but where is he or anyone else?" Hargo asks, confused and trying to understand what is happening.

"I don't know, Hargo. I don't know." Quintus makes a few cautious steps, gripping his sword tightly. "I need half of the group to stay here and take care of the situation if they appear and try to attack. Meanwhile I and the rest of the group will go inside the house to cap…" Quintus is interrupted by loud shouts of the soldiers attacking them from every corner of the yard.

"We will take care of it. You, go!" Bricius yells at Quintus. "Go find that son of a bitch!"

Quintus with his fellow fifteen gladiators run towards the house leaving screams, roaring, cursing, terrible clashing sounds behind their backs. He throws one glance at the scene to see how his friends are surrounded by at least forty soldiers, but they look like lions amongst rabbits. One by one the rows of the attackers lessen, piling up the dead bodies at the feet of the gladiators in the puddles of blood.

Quintus is afraid that the doors will be locked when they reach the house, but he is wrong; Amynthia has managed to unlock them.

They clash into the first small group of the guards, right at the door as soon as they run into the house. It doesn't take the gladiators a long time to deal with them and the soldiers with cut throats fall down on the floor. Soon after the screams of woken servants and slaves fill the house and more soldiers start to appear at hearing the horrible noises.

"Quintus, go find Cassius. We will hold them off!" Judoc shouts at his friend, blocking the strike of his rival.

"I can't lea…" Quintus begins but Hargo cuts in.

"Go!" he yells at the younger man and Quintus nods.

"Don't you dare die! I will be back soon," he tells his friends and grabs one of the dazed soldiers, who's lying on the floor moaning in pain. "Show me your master's chamber, dog!" Quintus drags the man along.

The guard, frightened for his life, obeys and leads the way to Cassius' bed chamber. They stop in front one of the doors and the man points at it:

"He's there."

"Thank you!" Quintus quickly knocks him out by punching him hard in the jaw.

The green-eyed man carefully opens the door and steps inside the room. The chamber is lit dimly by a single oil lamp but it's enough for Quintus to notice a sleeping body in the bed behind transparent curtains. He quickly but inaudibly reaches the bed, pointing the tip of the sword at the sleeping man.

"Get up!" he says loudly and very clearly.

The sleeping body jolts slightly but doesn't obey. It keeps silent and unmoving.

"Cassius Valerius Martialis, I said GET UP you son of a bitch!" Quintus raises his voice, not shifting his gaze from the body wrapped up in soft blankets.

"P-please…" A broken whisper. "Please don't hurt me."

Quintus flinches. It doesn't sound like Cassius' voice at all. He quickly grabs the blankets and yanks them down. The young man gasps; whoever is lying in the bed is not Cassius.

"Who are you and where is Cassius?" Quintus demands angrily.

"I-I'm Androcles, one of the servants. He asked me to stay in this bed while he'd be gone," the boy answers with a shaking voice.

"And where did he go?" Quintus has a very bad feeling but he desperately hopes he is wrong.

"To see senator Claudius Acilius."

The words sound like a clap of thunder and Quintus reels. Cassius had been informed about their escape and is gone to take necessary measures: bring reinforcement to the villa.

"Get out. And hide if you want to live," the gladiator rasps out and storms out of the chamber to find his friends and tell them about the danger.

When he returns to the place where he's left Judoc and Hargo, Quintus sees that out of his fifteen friends there are only eight left, including Judoc and the Ethiopian gladiator. A few resisting guards are still alive and Quintus quickly takes care of them: adding their lifeless bodies to the mutilated pile on the floor.

"We've been betrayed. Marcus told Cassius about our escape and the bastard is gone to bring the reinforcement. We need to hurry up!"

They rush out in the yard to join the first half of the group which they've left at the barracks. The fight is still going on. There are a lot of dead from both sides. Quintus notices Bricius' dead body, covered in multiple wounds, Alirick is alive but barely standing, clutching his bleeding side. Out of fifteen gladiators only ten are alive, which makes eighteen living warriors in total.

"Marcus took our money but informed Cassius about our plan. He's probably marching towards us with the reinforcement. We need to run right now!" Quintus shouts, while beheading one of the guards with one powerful strike.

"Have you seen Amynthia? I am not leaving without her!" Alirick exclaims anxiously.

Before anyone answers his question, the northern gates of the villa collapse with a horrendous noise, massive iron chains falling to the ground with a loud, rattling sound.

Eighteen gladiators freeze in shock: Cassius is sitting on a black mare, riding beside the commander of centuria sent by the senator Acillius for his assistance.

The procession stops in the yard staring at the rebellions. The commander of the centuria is waiting for the host's order.

"Kill them all!" Cassius says briefly before moving out of their way.

Besides his heart beating wildly and blood rushing rapidly through his veins, there is one more sound that Quintus hears: the sounds of drawing bows before they release death-bringing arrows.  
"RUN!" The inhuman voice that fills the night air belongs to Quintus Atticus, one of the best gladiators of Martialis' ludus.

Cassius brushes off some imaginary dust from his tunic and leaving all the deafening sounds behind, walks towards his house, singing something merrily under his nose. Not once turning to the massacre going on in the yard, Cassius enters his villa, walks amongst corpses, finds wine and a goblet and goes to the pool.

Taking off his clothes and throwing them on the mosaic floor, the young man steps into the pool, lowers himself into the pleasant water and rests his strong, muscled arms on the edges. He takes a sip from the goblet, lets out a sigh of relief and closes his eyes. After a few seconds Cassius Valerius Martialis throws his head back and laughs.

* * *

Had it been possible the Sun would've chosen not to rise the next day, so bone-chilling was the sight of Martialis' villa. The yard had been full of dead or dying soldiers or gladiators, sending curses to the owner of the house.

Cassius walks beside the commander of the sent soldiers, checking bodies with the poke of a spear. Almost all the guards of the villa had been killed in the massacre, plus a few slaves and servants.

"Commander." A young soldier approaches the centurion and the host of the villa. "We found some gladiators who are still alive. What will be the order? Should we kill them?"

"How many are there?" Cassius asks suddenly.

"We counted ten men alive," responds the soldier.

"Cassius?" The centurion turns towards the host. "What would you like us to do with them?"

The young man falls silent. His cold blue-eyes narrow in concentration. Then his lips quirk into an evil smirk and he says:

"I want them to die a slow death. I want them to feel how painful it is, to turn their every moment into unbearable torture. Crucify them!"

Quintus, Judoc and Eurimachos are amongst the remaining gladiators. Hargo had died a few hours ago. His body had been wounded by many arrows but the huge gladiator had still kept fighting, until someone's thrown spear smashed his ribcage and pierced right through his heart.

Quintus has lost blood from numerous wounds and is half conscious, not understanding what is happening around him, when horrible screams and sounds of hammering fill the yard. His vision is blurry and he's coughing up blood, not quite realizing that these are the screams of his friends who are being crucified because of their failed mission.

Quintus doesn't fight against the hands which drag him. Realization of the horrible truth dawns on him when he feels excruciating pain in his palm as the hammer pierces a nail through his hand. A desperate shout is ripped out of his lungs and he tries to struggle but too many hands hold him in place while the hammer continues its work. As much as he wants to bear the pain it's impossible to do so and Quintus' yells of pain join the rest of the screams and shouts sounding in the yard.  
"Take them out of the yard. I don't want to breathe their stench and hear their screams. Drag them outside the yard and drive the crosses in along the way towards the Ianus' temple," Cassius says with hatred. He turns around to call a servant but stops, as idea comes to his mind.

"I hope you are happy," he says mockingly as he looks down at crucified Quintus. "Did you really think that I would be so stupid that I wouldn't find out about your dirty intentions? This is where you belong. This is the fate you deserve, filthy whore," Cassius snarls and spits into the gladiator's face.

Quintus' lips tremble from rage, agonizing pain forgotten for a moment and he raises his head, looking in the eyes of his tormentor.

"Pray to all existing gods that I won't find you in your next life. Start praying right now and never stop, because if… no… when I find you…" Quintus wheezes and coughs out more blood, "…you will wish you'd never been born."

Cassius' face turns pale and clenches his fists after hearing such impudent words but quickly regains his composure.

"Take them out. I don't want to see their ugly faces," he orders quickly. "Andronicus, come with me. Let's get inside the house," he tells the centurion, inviting him inside the villa.

The soldiers begin to drag the crosses out of the yard as two men keep walking towards the door of the villa.

"Quintus…" A hoarse whisper reaches the gladiator's clouded mind and he barely manages to open his eyes.

Judoc is staring at him from the other cross, with a bloody face. "It was… an honor… to fight… beside you…" the young man tells Quintus, trying to smile in his last minutes.

"It was an honor…to have you as my friend," Quintus replies quietly.

"May our paths cross again in the next life…brother," Judoc whispers and closes his eyes.

"I am sure we will meet again. Sleep now, little brother." Quintus stares at the dying man with tear filled eyes.

After two hours ten crosses with dead or dying gladiators are set on the road near the Martialis' villa.

* * *

The sudden cold wind that blows from Capua's direction gathers dark clouds in the sky, which will definitely bring a pouring rain. By this time Judoc, Eurimachos and four more gladiators are already dead. Quintus and three more unfortunate men are still alive and suffering on their crosses. The green-eyed man can hear their sobs, praying to gods to end their pains quickly. It's so surprising that despite their failure, no one had held grudges towards their leader – Quintus. As hours pass broken whispers and pleas subdue one by one, leaving the last gladiator all alone.

Quintus' head is hung low on his chest, lips chapped and throat dry, when he hears a broken sob and his name.

"Quintus…"

The gladiator opens his eyes and raises his head a little to look down at the unexpected visitor. Quintus can't help but smile, but it's bitter and painful.

"You came…"

"Of course I came. How could I not come?" Demetrius swallows burning tears. "What have they done to you, my love?" The young man touches the gladiator's feet gingerly, as if afraid to cause him more pain.

"Do not worry… about me. I don't… feel pain anymore." Quintus tries to assure him. "I will leave this world soon. And you… you should return to your homeland."

"Quintus, please stop talking nonsense. I am not leaving you." Demetrius shakes his head, causing a smile on the gladiator's lips. He'd always found this feature adorable in the younger man.

"But… I will die soon and you… you can start everything anew."

Demetrius doesn't answer. He just sits under the cross. Quintus doesn't have a clear view of what his lover is doing, as Demetrius is bending forward a little and fumbling around his neck with his hands.

"What are you doing?" Quintus can't help but ask after he hears a stifled hissing.

"Nothing. Do not worry about anything." Demetrius looks up at him doe-eyed, as he tries to control his quivering lips.

The rain starts to fall in heavy drops, getting stronger with each second. Demetrius sits with his back pressed against the pillar, shivering a little but this is not what catches Quintus' attention. He can see a small dagger at Demetrius' right hand and a red puddle stretching between his legs, which is getting washed away by pouring rain.

"What did you do, Demetrius?" Quintus exclaims horrified. It takes almost all of his remaining strength to shout those words.

"I… I cannot live without you. I am sorry," Demetrius mumbles and raises his hands. Quintus can see cut veins on both of his wrists. "Besides, if I let you go alone, you will not be able to pay Charon, as you do not have coins to pay for crossing the Styx. He would not let you cross the river." The boy sniffs and unclenches one of the fists. There are coins in his palm. "I have brought money for both of us."

Quintus can't help himself when two burning tears roll down his cheeks. "You little fool," he says affectionately. Like he used to say.

"I love you Quintus Atticus and I am the happiest person to die beside you," Demetrius whispers, swallowing his tears.

And under the falling skies, under the pouring rain there are two men dying. One, on the cross and the other one under the cross, refusing to leave his beloved until the death takes their souls to Hades.

**End of part I**


	6. Chapter 6

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**I've been getting a lot of PM-s where the readers were asking if it was a different story as the summary didn't match what was happening in the previous five chapters. Guys, I already said in the beginning of the story that the first five chapters describe Dean's (Quintus) and Cas' (Cassius) past lives. Please read the author's note when there is one :) Thanks and enjoy the story :)**

* * *

700 years later

A pouring rain came that night, bouncing off of the fortress's roof noisily. It had been a late summer, predecessor of a chilly Autumn. The wound obtained in the battle at the Valley of Shadows had started to pulse and itch, making the king Uldred grunt in pain. But it hadn't made him change his decision about the hunting next morning.

Uldred was eighteen years old when his father Hedric had died, thus leaving his only son as the heir of the throne of the kingdom. Thanks be to all gods his father had many wise advisors who helped the young boy reign over the kingdom, which was not small by any means. He had been too busy building, restoring the city walls damaged by attacks or unmerciful weather, helping poor people in every way possible and had never thought about his own heir until he turned forty years old. That's when the oldest counselor and the rest of the viziers begged him to choose a wife as the kingdom needed a prince, the descendent of Uldred. The king had given in and married princess Nolween of the Iron Mountains, a beautiful maiden with eyes blue like aquamarines. She had been a very sweet, loyal and loving woman, a decent spouse for the king, loved by so many people of the kingdom.

Nolween was heavily pregnant, expecting her and Uldred's first child in a day or two. She would get tired easily and preferred to stay in her chambers. Uldred had restricted any noises, prohibited loud music or singing around the castle until the baby was born.

It's late at night. Almost everyone in the fortress is asleep, except Uldred and his general Lord Robert. A tangible silence lingers in the air, as the wax candles melt in sconces on the walls. The king's cheeks are flushed from drinking wine, but even the drink can't help enlighten his foul mood. Something heavy and dark is bothering Uldred's soul but he cannot tell what it is. Even Robert seems full of dread.  
The rain had stopped and the owls in the King's garden had started to hoot from the tall cypresses. The guards on the walls would shout at them from time to time.

"What is the reason for your distemper, Robert?" Uldred raises his head, looking at his general's frowning face.

"I did not want to be a messenger of bad news and add more burdens to your shoulders to bear, when you have more than enough to think about, but this is very important and the kingdom's fate may depend on it." Robert's thumbs fumble with the silver buckle of his belt. "The spies informed me that Lord Azazel crossed the northern borders, invaded Veermons, broke down their city gates and annihilated half of the city. Azazel and his son Alastair destroyed their shrines, burned their idols and killed the priests, then sacrificed nine boys and girls according to the old, blood ritual. For three days and nights they danced around the pyre, drunken out of their minds. After that they made the city governor and what was left of his army pledge their allegiance to them, that they will help Azazel defeat you and become the new king."

Now Uldred understands why he had been feeling so down. One of his fathers and his vassals broke the oath. The sadness creeps into the king's eyes. How could Azazel do such things? Hadn't he been the one who always helped Hedric defeat various enemies and saved his life many times? Had gods sent madness upon Azazel, for his mind to be so obviously clouded?

"Are the news trustworthy? What if they are exaggerated and Azazel had a reason to attack Veermons?" Uldred clings to the last hope, that maybe his vassal is innocent and they've been fed with shameful lies.  
"I wish they were lies, your majesty." Robert sighs quietly. "It is very hard for me to believe that Azazel would betray you and break the sacred oath."

"Let's leave it be for the present. After my heir is born we will find a way to unveil his true intentions and if they prove to be right, we will punish the oath breaker." Uldred stands up from the throne. "Go and get some sleep. We will go hunting tomorrow early in the morning."

Robert nods and follows behind the king, thinking about a plan of how to unmask Azazel and make his intentions public.

* * *

The next day at the dawn Uldred and his suit with servants and hounds went to the forest of Seven Spirits. Robert had been trying to make the king change his mind, due to the old wound but Uldred would not listen. "I will rest when I am dead," he would say laughing. After a several attempts Robert had given up.

"I wonder what they are doing here?" Uldred points at the flock of crows flying in circles above the forest. "It's like they are waiting for something."

"It's just a flock of silly birds, my lord. Don't let them bother you," Robert chuckles. "Eventually they will fly away."

"Who knows," the king mumbles under his nose too quietly for someone to hear him.

Uldred spurs his horse and the animal gallops towards the forest, followed by lord Robert and the rest of the suit. The dogs start to bark deafeningly, smelling the scent of a deer. The servants blow the horns, beat the steel drums and with ear-splitting shrieks run into the woods. The noise is so horrendous that the king frowns and even Robert mumbles curses under his breath. It all has one purpose, to frighten the hunted animal but the damn noise caused by the king's servants will scare not only the animals but any human being who's unfortunate enough to be wandering in the woods at this time. Not that there will be many people, but still there can be some peasants, trying to gather some woods beforehand, until the cold weathers hit.

The path the riders have chosen is getting narrower, until it's impossible for the horses to pass through; only men on foot can continue walking through the horny bushes and tall weeds. Uldred wouldn't be able to walk for a long time due to his irritated wound, therefore Robert suggested they turned around and choose another path along the small river.

"If we stay and wait near the river, the prey will definitely run towards us and we can easily kill whatever the dogs are chasing," Robert assumes.

His words are liked by the king and they do as the king's general advised. They turn around and pass maple trees, listening to birds' chirping. The barking of dogs and neighing of horses are getting near, as the other sounds, the sounds of breaking twigs and angry roaring. Well, it seems like instead of a deer their prey is a bear. And a big one, judging by the heavy stomping sounds.

Uldred draws the bow, ready to shoot the arrow as soon as the beast appears from behind the bushes. The horses smell the scent of the bear and neigh frightened, rearing nervously. The king and the rest of his suits try to calm the horses down when a bear of enormous size appears from behind the trees, running directly towards the king.

Uldred doesn't listen to Robert's warning shout and shoots the first arrow, which hits the beast in its shoulder, only making it angrier. The bear, enraged from pain and confusion all around him, stands on its hind legs and attacks the king's horse. Robert or any other man from Uldred's suit don't have chance to react as the horses neigh anxiously and gallop away, not obeying to their riders. Before Robert dismounts his horse to help the king, Uldred is already on the ground, fighting the beast face to face. After a several wounds caused by the king's sword, he bear runs towards the river with the king following suit.  
When finally Robert and the rest of the king's men manage to reach the river bank, they see a dead bear lying sprawled out on the ground.

"Where is the king?" asks one of the lords, looking around. "He should be here."

Robert squints his eyes, scanning the surroundings when his gaze falls upon the dead beast.  
"Gods have mercy!" he yells, frightened, and rushes toward the bear. "Don't stand like idiots, help me move this!"

With the help of five more men, Robert drags the dead beast's body aside and kneels beside the bloody, panting king.

"Are you alright, your majesty?" His voice cracks.

"I have not felt so good in many years," Uldred replies chuckling. "I am alive do not worry about me. Just help me up."

After careful examination the healers say that all the bones are intact and that the king has only small gashes and bruises. Uldred is taken and laid upon soft furs in the shadows under an oak tree. The dead bear is carried by twelve servants and put into a special carrier.

It's almost noon when a messenger reaches the king's temporary camp with loud and anxious shouts.

"Your majesty!" A young boy, age of fourteen-fifteen runs towards Uldred, screaming.

"What is it?" The king sits up, recognizing a groom in the boy.

"Your majesty, queen Nolween went into labor!" the boy pants, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. His light brown eyes sparkle from excitement and the king can't help but smile at the pure joy of the boy's face. It's so nice to see people genuinely happy and anticipating the birth of the throne's heir.

"I see you are happy," Uldred says gently. "Can't wait to see my child?"

"Yes, my king. I can't wait to see your son." The boy grins at the king.

"Son? How do you know it's a boy? What if it's a little girl?" Uldred chuckles. Of course he hopes that it's a boy but what if gods decided to give him a girl?

"No, my king. I know it's a boy," the little groom says so confidently that his words cause laughter.

"Here, take this. You earned it." Uldred gives him a few gold coins and the boy almost chokes; it's more than his annual salary.

"Thank you my king. I will be the most loyal groom to you and your son, you have ever had." The boy bows respectfully.

"We need to hurry up," the king says and gives a sign to decamp and return to the fortress. "You can come with us. Get in the carrier if you are not afraid of dead bears." Uldred smiles and ruffles the boy's hair.

* * *

As soon as they are back at the fortress, Uldred almost runs into the queen's chambers, which is full of midwives and servants.

Nolween is lying in the bed with a small bundle in her arms, smiling lovingly at it.

"You are back," the woman says gently, looking at her husband softly.

"Yes, my love." Uldred walks towards her bed, bends down and kisses her in the lips. "I see you finished the job while I was away hunting." He looks down at the bundle – a sleeping baby in his wife's arms.

"Yes. The baby wouldn't wait for your return." Nolween lets out a small chuckle. "It's a boy. The gods gave us the desired heir for our kingdom, Uldred." Her eyes glitter like aquamarines under the sun rays. "Would you like to hold him?"

"Of course," Uldred takes the bundle from his wife carefully, pressing it to his chest. "Well, hello my son and welcome to this world."

The baby opens his eyes and looks at his father, twitching his little fingers. He yawns languidly but doesn't take his gaze off of his father.

"He has your eyes, darling," Uldred says, admiring the blue eyes of his newborn son.

"Yes, but the rest he has inherited from you." Nolween smiles, squeezing her husband's hand gently. "What should we name him? Do you have a name chosen?"

"Yes. I've been thinking about the baby's name a lot. I would like his name to be Castiel, if you don't mind." The king waits for the queen's approval.

"Castiel… It's a beautiful name. Let it be so then." Nolween nods her agreement.

"Good. You should rest now, my love. They will take care of the baby," Uldred points at her servants.

"No, I must feed him first. Then we will both sleep," Nolween takes the baby from her husband's arms.

"Oh, right. Feed him well. I will see you later," Uldred laughs, kisses his wife again and leaves her chambers.

The flock of numerous crows, which had been flying above the forest, moved towards the fortress, performing their dance of doom above the high walls of Sirnamor fortress.


	7. Chapter 7

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* * *

**To Raye:** I don't ship Wincest and no Demetrius was not Sam :D I gave a hint in chapter 5 who Sam was in the past life ;) If you re-read the chapter towards the end, you will guess :)

Chapter 7

Uldred's kingdom, where the king, his family and the suit live at the Sirnamor fortress is called Vali Isuria. According to the legend one of the main twelve gods, the protector of nature had been travelling around the world and had came to these lands, which were not inhabited at that time. The abundance of nature there was so beautiful and relaxing that the god had blessed the land, its grounds, rivers and forests. Since then Vali Isuria's lands had prospered as people had begun to come from different places to settle down.

The kingdom is rich with wheat and barley fields, grassy hills with fat cows and sheep, which give delicious milk and famous grayish cheese, highly demanded in neighboring lands. The left bank of the river Othra is famous for its beautiful orchards. Apple, pear, peach and cherry trees are a mesmerizing sight to see in spring. The scent that lingers in the air can make one's head spin. Forests and rivers are full of beasts, birds and aquatic life good for hunting and fishing.

The first people who had settled and inhabited the land had formed the city which they called Vali Isuria, which meant "Bright like the sun". The walls surrounding the city were made of the stone, glistening and shining blindingly under the burning red ball in the sky.

Vali Isuria had many wise kings and rulers. They'd lived in peace and had very friendly relationships with neighboring lands. Uldred's great grandfather was one of the first kings to rule the kingdom. People say he was so wise that sometimes even gods would come to him for advice.

Unfortunately times change and when Uldred had become a king the situation had quickly gotten worse. Out of nowhere old friends had become enemies, knitting the web of intrigues to get closer and usurp the throne. The king had been afraid for his newborn son's life.

The feast and the presentation of the prince to the public is decided to take place fourteen days after the prince's birth. As the priests of the moon temple tell the king, the celestial body will be full by that time, the best time for foretelling the baby's future. Uldred agrees and gives an order to send messengers to his vassals, allies, relatives and friends, inviting them to the feast to celebrate the prince's birth. Since the formation of Vali Isuria the priests of the moon temple have predicted the futures of the throne's heirs, and Uldred hopes that Castiel's future is benevolent towards him and the kingdom.

* * *

Many lords and honorable guests come to the ceremony on the appointed date. Many of them are truly happy for Uldred and the baby prince, waiting patiently to see the tiny heir to the throne. Azazel and his son Alastair are among the guests. Uldred had asked Robert to keep an eye on them and inform the king if he noticed anything suspicious. He had not yet decided what to do with the traitors, though Robert had advised he simply behead them. Uldred had chosen to wait a little longer and spy on the two of them first.

The first part of the ceremony, feasting, ends late at night. It's almost midnight when the guests start gathering in the great hall in front of the throne. At midnight the priests will bring the baby prince into the hall to introduce him to the guests and make a prediction about his and the kingdom's future.

There is a golden basin on the marble altar in the center of the hall, filled with icy-cold water. According to the tradition the new born princes were placed in the cold water together with moonstones. At midnight the moon would shine through the hole made in the roof of the fortress, illuminating the basin with the prince in it. Observing the moon's position, the baby's behavior and the color of the moonstones the priests would make forecasts about the heir's and the kingdom's fate. Not even once had the priests forseen ill fate for the kingdom and hopefully they wouldn't fail this time either.

The chairs had been brought from the feasting hall and aligned in front the basin. The lords, vassals, the king's friends and all the rest of the guests had occupied their seats with their flag bearers standing behind their backs, holding their banners to show the emblems of their houses.

The hushed whispers and murmurs die out one by one when the priests enter the hall, leading the procession of ladies-in-waiting and the queen Nolween holding the newborn prince. Castiel is sleeping peacefully in her arms, wrapped up in an expensive azure silk. Uldred, sitting on the throne can't help but smile at the sight. The crowd lets out an appreciative sound and hushed laughter.

The priests stop at the basin, waiting for the chief priest Nalak to proceed. The chief priest is the oldest inhabitant of the kingdom, more than hundred and twenty years old, with long, white hair and eyes of the ripe plum color.

"My lady," Nalak addresses the queen. "Hand me the heir of the kingdom, please."

"Of course," Nolween smiles, throwing a careful glance at the still sleeping Castiel before handing him to the chief priest. Her heart wrenches when Nalak's bony fingers start to unwrap the silk around the baby.

The moon slowly rises and swims towards the roof of the fortress to shine through the hole and stretch its rays down to the basin where Nalak is preparing baby Castiel to put into the icy-cold water.

As soon as the moon peeks into the hole in the roof, the chief priest's hands submerge the sleeping child into the water. Castiel startled by sudden, unpleasant feeling wakes up and starts screaming. His wails of despair resound sharply in the walls of the fortress. The baby keeps screeching and kicking his tiny legs, flailing in the priest's hands but somehow Nalak doesn't seem to hurry up and pull Castiel out of the basin, though the child has turned blue from the cold water.

"What is it, Nalak?" Uldred asks worriedly. He doesn't want Castiel to fall ill from being in the freezing water for so long.

"I am looking at the rays and the moonstones, my king." Nalak's raspy voice doesn't sound soothing.

'What do you see, please tell us," Nolween pleads the priest.

"That's the problem, my lady. I cannot see anything. The stones have not changed the color and the moon rays are not enough for the forecasting." Nalak shows mercy and pulls Castiel out of the water, handing him to one of the ladies-in-wait, who dries the prince and wraps up in a towel. The child's screams and hiccups subdue, turning into soft whimpers. The woman gives the baby to his mother and Nolween rocks her son in her arms, crooning something into his ear.

"What does that mean? Is it a bad sign?" Azazel stirs on his seat, glancing from the priest to the throne's heir. Oh how he wishes it was so!

"It means that the moon god does not want to tell us about his future. Perhaps he has reasons for hiding his future." Nalak leans on his staff.

"But there has not been an occasion when the kingdom's and the prince's fate had not been forecasted. Why now?" Uldred sounds very upset. Does it mean that all the celebration, the feast and the torments his newborn son went through was in vain?

"I am powerless against the gods, my king." Nalak lowers his head and gestures to the other priests to leave the hall, causing confused whispers amongst the public.

"Your majesty," a deep voice sounds from the depth of the hall. "I can forecast the prince's future if you allow me."

"Who is speaking? Come out." Uldred squints his eyes, trying to see who he is talking to.

It's Bessabel, a former slave Uldred's father bought from merchants a long time ago. Bessabel had been thirteen year old boy when Hedric saved him from only gods know what fate. Since then the boy had been living at the fortress, helping the chief groom with horses and foals.

As Bessabel grew, he became a well-known healer, tamer of birds and beasts, enchanter and fortuneteller. People of Vali Isuria both respected and feared him, telling various stories how Bessabel tamed an enormous red snake, which lived in his chambers and helped its master in dark deeds. Mothers would frighten their stubborn children with Bessabel and his snake, though no one had ever seen the snake with their own eyes.

"Bessabel, it's you," Nolween nods to the small, bald man clad in a green robe. She holds a great deal of respect for him, as the man has helped the queen so many times, giving her mixtures for bad headaches she would have through the pregnancy.

"Yes, my lady. I am ready to forecast the prince's future, if the king allows me to." The man stares at Uldred expectantly.

Uldred sighs. He would prefer the priests to do the ritual but as they have failed, Bessabel is his only hope. "You have my permission. You may begin," Uldred nods his agreement.

"My king, before I start the forecasting I need you to promise me something," Bessabel chuckles quietly.

"And what would that be?" Uldred arches his brow amused.

"I would like you to give me the king's word that if I see a bad sign for your son's future, you will not harm me in any way."

The words stir a loud rumble between the guests.

"This sounds interesting," Azazel tells his son.

"I already think that the prince will not have a bright future. The omens earlier were not good," Alastair leans towards his father to whisper into his ear.

Uldred raises his hand to hush the crowd.

"You have my word, Bessabel. I will not harm or punish you no matter how bad my son's future may seem. Please begin."

"Thank you, my king. Let us begin then." Bessabel walks towards the basin, muttering and humming unfamiliar words under his breath, probably summoning the spirits to help him in the ritual.


End file.
